Flowers
by Amanda Kitswell
Summary: A gesture of love can in the form of something as innocent as a bouquet of flowers. For Merrill, it comes as an entire garden. Written for Asexuality Awareness Week on tumblr.


The dirty cobbled stones were warm beneath Merrill's feet as she wandered the Lowtown markets, her eyes catching on the glimmering gems and shimmering poultices lined along the tables the merchants had set up. A retractable length of ironbark rested on a shelf behind a lanky merchant in hooded robes, and were it not for the tingle of magic on the edge of her senses, she would not have recognized it as a staff. A tickle of electricity on the tips of her fingers drew her to it, and she reached out, enamoured with the way it seemed to ignite her primal abilities.

She dropped her hand and stared at it longingly, and found herself brushing her fingers against the old staff she had brought to Kirkwall so long ago. The reasons she held onto it for as long as she did were clouded, as if she had forgotten them herself. Merrill fumbled with the coins in the purse at her hip, and found precious little. Hardly enough to afford the staff she so badly desired. With a heavy sigh, she turned away from the merchant's table, and walked into something decidedly solid.

"Oh!" she squeaked, and gently rubbed her nose before she flicked her eyes upward. The sun glared above her, and the person she had collided with was cast in silhouette. "I'm so sorry, messere. That was clumsy of me, I should have looked where I was going."

"Messere?" the man responded. "Is that what you're going to be calling me now?"

"Ayden!" She squinted her eyes against the sunlight, a broad grin stretched across her face. Her eyes adjusted against the blinding light, and she saw a small smile on his lips, the mark of perpetual sadness twinkling in his light blue eyes. "Is everything all right?"

"It is now," he said in a soft tone. He took her hand before he leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. "You seemed rather enthralled by that staff over there."

"I wouldn't say enthralled," she said, and her cheeks warmed when his smile widened just the slightest bit. "I mean, it _is_ a very nice staff, and it seems like the sort I would be able to use well, but the staff I have is good, too. Besides, I haven't got the coin for that other one." She caught herself frowning, and forced a smile back onto her face.

Ayden brushed his thumb along the back of her hand. "I could buy it for you, if you want?"

"No, no I couldn't ask you to do that." Her heart hummed in her chest. "Really, I can make do with the staff I have. I've been using it since I was named First in my clan."

"If you could have this one, would you feel safer?" She paused, and realized she would indeed feel more at ease with a more powerful staff. With some hesitation, she nodded her head. "Then you should have it." Before she could argue, he had slipped a number of gold coins from the small satchel on his belt and exchanged them for the staff. He handed it to her, his hand shaking a little. When she searched his eyes, she noticed he seemed nervous, and she wondered if he hadn't really wanted to buy it.

That was silly, though, wasn't it? If he hadn't wanted to buy the staff for her, he wouldn't have offered to in the first place. She held the staff in her open hands, and felt the weight of it pushing down on her palms. The magic infused within it seeped into her skin and warmed her blood, and she smiled at the sensation. She felt stronger, somehow, simply holding it; she could only imagine how it would feel to cast a spell.

"Thank you, Ayden," she said, looking up at him, a toothy grin etched on her face. "I don't know what I could ever do to repay you."

"There is one thing you could do," he started, and her eyes widened with curiosity. "I was actually down here looking for you; there's something I want to show you. Are you able to come to Hightown?"

She nodded. "I fed the cats before I left, and that was only a little while ago. They should be fine for a few hours. They haven't tried to eat any of my books for a whole month now!"

Ayden laughed, a low rumble in his chest that warmed her to hear. "That is good to hear. Cats, for all their love and affection, can be troublesome little beasts when they want to be." He took the staff from her hands and strapped it beside the one already on her back, and they began to walk toward the stairway that led into Hightown.

"I've come home to more than one of my pillows torn to pieces, bits of fluff strewn across the floor of my bedroom." She chuckled along with him, the memory of the mess more comical than anything else. "I hardly mind it; it's nice to have a reminder that I'm not alone in my home anymore."

"You are never alone, Merrill. Not anymore." His fingers tangled with her own, and she smiled up at him. It was true, and she felt no need to argue. Since she had met Ayden, his presence seemed to never leave her. There was a connection between them, and she felt it as strongly as she felt the determination to reclaim her people's history. She wasn't quite sure if she loved him—she hardly knew what love was—but she cared deeply for him, of that she was certain.

They entered the Hightown markets, and she paused to look around. She couldn't deny the quality of the baubles was more impressive. The poultices were brighter shades of red and blue and yellow, and they radiated light which seemed to make the air around them shimmer with energy. Armor and weapons alike reflected the sunlight and glass vials yet to be filled cast prisms of all manner of color onto the pristine cobblestones of the marketplace. She ran her fingers along a fur trimmed set of robes, and marveled at how silky it felt against her skin.

Four years in this city and she was still amazed by the beauty of everything. She looked up at Ayden, and he down at her. Something like fascination shone behind the melancholy in his eyes, and her cheeks burned what she knew was a brilliant shade of crimson. He obviously noticed her attention to all things shiny and pretty, and perhaps he found it endearing.

Ayden navigated the stalls and the alleyways that led to the courtyard and stopped outside the Hawke estate. He opened the door for her to enter, and she was once again surprised at how big the estate was. The ceilings were much higher than those in the shack where she lived, and the warm colors throughout the decor gave it a welcoming air. Flames crackled exuberantly in the fireplace, and Gwyneth's mabari, Malcolm, lay sprawled on his back near the hearth.

When he saw Merrill, he flipped onto his stomach and bounded toward her. His tail wagged back and forth in his excitement, and he lapped at her hands after giving them a quick inspection. No doubt she smelled of cats, but he didn't seem to mind, and she giggled as he nuzzled her stomach and smiled up at her in the way only a mabari could. Ayden placed his hand on her back and gently nudged her in the direction of the kitchen. Malcolm followed them at a trot, his nails clicking on the stone floor.

When they reached the door that led outside to the Hawke's private garden, Ayden stopped. "Close your eyes," he said, his lips pulled into a small smile, and his eyes shone with excitement that overwhelmed the sadness. She did as he requested, though her brows furrowed together in confusion. "Don't worry, Merrill. I promise I'm not leading you into a trap."

She giggled. "I know that; I trust you."

He touched a hand to her face, his thumb brushing along her cheekbone. "And I you."

She heard the door open, and his hand moved to her shoulder. He led her outside, and the first thing she noticed was the overwhelming scent of flowers; lavender, roses, forget-me-nots, and all sorts of other intoxicating aromas assaulted her senses, and she was almost dizzy from the beauty of it. He stopped urging her along, and turned her to face in the opposite direction.

"Okay, open your eyes," he said, and when she did, she was awestruck. Dozens of different types of flowers and herbs lined the path on which she stood, in all manner of colors. Reds, pinks, yellows, oranges, purples, whites, and blues accented the sea of green that covered what had once been a simple grass yard with benches scattered around the path. Those stone benches remained, but with a large rose bush on either side, and sunflowers lined behind them. A large weeping willow, once thought to be beyond saving—it had rotted, and the branches had become barren—now flourished a brilliant, seafoam green, the dark branches spotted with vibrantly colored birds.

"It's . . . beautiful, Ayden." Her eyes were wide with wonder, and the smile on her face conveyed her awe. She couldn't seem to look away. "Did you do all of this yourself?"

"Well, I had help from Sebastian—he seems to find peace in gardening, like myself—but most of it was my work." He turned to look at her, and she smiled up at him. "So you like it?"

"I love it. It's the most wonderful thing I've seen since I came to Kirkwall." She looked down, and her cheeks burned a little. "It's much nicer than the Viscount's gardens."

Ayden's cheeks had darkened when she returned her gaze to him, almost as if he was embarrassed. "You really think so?"

"I do!" She smiled shyly. "Is it okay if I . . . ?" She glanced at the garden, and back to him.

"Go ahead," he said, as if he knew what she was going to say. She grinned broadly and turned and raced toward the flowers. Her fingers traced along the petals of a daisy, the silky texture sending a shiver up her spine. She plucked a single white flower and lifted it, braiding it into her hair and securing it there with one of the clips.

Moments passed quickly as she wandered through the flowers, picking them at random, all while Ayden watch from a bench by the willow with Malcolm at his feet. After a time, she had a large collection of forget-me-nots, purple and blue marigolds, lavender, white and purple alstromeria, and daisies woven into a crown, and she added a few sprigs of rosemary throughout. She loved the smell of rosemary; it reminded her of the herb gardens she tended to when she was with her clan. She trotted to where he sat, and with a soft giggle placed the flower crown atop his head.

He chuckled and smiled up at her. "How do I look?" he asked, and took her hand in his.

"Very pretty," she laughed. He brushed a kiss along her knuckles and released her hand, and she wandered over to a bush spotted with snapdragons, which she cupped in her hands to inhale the scent.

She turned back toward the willow, and saw that Ayden was distracted by Malcolm, who had his paws up on Ayden's knees, licking the man's face affectionately. She took the opportunity to silently approach the willow, and leapt upward to grasp one of the thicker branches that was within her reach. She pulled herself up, and climbed across to the next branch, and the next, until she had wound her way around to settle just above Ayden. She stifled a giggle when Malcolm looked upward, and cocked his head to the side.

The mabari's actions didn't seem to faze Ayden, who continued to scratch Malcolm's ears. When Ayden turned his gaze to where Merrill had been by the snapdragons, he abruptly stood and called out her name. He looked around at the garden, and when he didn't see her, his body language suggested concern that she may have left. With a soft laugh, she adjusted her position to hang upside down from the branch, her hands gripped firmly enough that the bark dug into her calloused palms.

"Looking for me?" she asked, and laughed when he turned around, his eyes wide. He smiled, the worry melting from his face, leaving relief in its wake. "Did I worry you?"

"Only a little." He stepped closer, close enough that their noses touched as she swung on the branch. "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Oh, yes, very much." She tilted her head toward the ground and placed a quick kiss on his nose, then pulled herself back up to sit on the branch, giggling. Her turquoise leggings were spotted with dirt, she noticed, as her legs swung from the tree, and she brushed at it, not concerned when it only faded a little. There was a small tear in the skirt of her white dress, but that would be easily mended.

"Will you be coming down anytime soon?" he asked, an amused smile twitching on his lips.

"Perhaps." She leaned against the trunk of the tree, resting one foot on the branch as the other dangled toward the ground. "Will you help me?" she teased, since she didn't truly need the assistance. She wasn't so far from the ground that she couldn't simply drop down.

"Of course."

She grinned down at him before she moved to grip the branch, and slowly shifted her body downward, until she hung by her hands. Ayden's hands gripped her waist firmly, and when she released the branch, he lowered her gently to the ground. Warmth spread from where his hands held her to settle in her belly, and her cheeks grew warm. She stood on tiptoe to lean up and place a lingering kiss on his lips. It was soft, innocent, and without expectation. He had explained to her that he rarely felt any physical attraction to anyone, but he didn't mind a kiss here and there.

It was easy to understand, as she felt similarly. She pulled away and rested her cheek against his chest, her arms wrapped around him. He reached a hand up to stroke her hair. They stayed like that for a time, simply holding one another, his breath warm as it brushed across the top of her head.

Eventually they stepped away from each other, and sat on the bench beneath the weeping willow. Malcolm dropped to the ground in front of them and rested his head on his forepaws. Ayden snaked an arm across her shoulders, and she rested her head in the hollow beneath his collarbone. She was content, more content than she had been in ages, and it was wonderful to feel this way, to be with Ayden and just relax. To forget that she was no closer to repairing the Eluvian than she was when she began restoring it. For now, she had happiness in the comfort of Ayden's arms. She laced her fingers with his, and gripped tight. Her heart swelled when he squeezed equally as hard, and she smiled to herself.

"I love you," she blurted out, and almost immediately chastised herself. Where had _that_ come from? She felt him tense beneath her, and she felt as if her entire body burned with embarrassment. "I'm so sorry, was that too soon? I don't know what came over me, I—"

"I love you, too, Merrill," he said, his body relaxing beneath her as he let out a deep breath. "I think I have for a while now."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He tilted her chin up to him with a finger and placed a gentle kiss on her lips. "You're the first person to truly understand me. Of course others respected that part of me that doesn't desire intimate contact, but I don't think they really understood what it meant. I can't express just how much it means to me that you do."

She smiled, and once again rested her head on his chest. "It's very easy for me. I've always been the same way, or at least similar. The only person I've been with in that way was Mira, but she left our clan to join the Wardens when she fell ill with the taint. We spent precious few nights together, and I hadn't felt that way again until now."

"I'm very grateful that coming to Kirkwall led me to you, Merrill. I've never been more grateful for anything in my life." He tightened his hold on her, and they sat together until the sun began to set, the only noise Malcolm's panting breaths and grunting snores. As the sky faded from vibrant shades of pink and orange to lavender, the sounds of dinner being prepared filtered out from the kitchen, and Merrill sat up when Ayden began to shift his position.

"Will you join me for dinner?" he asked as he stood, holding his hand out for her.

She took his hand and stood, and placed a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'd love to."

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers—a quick, chaste kiss—and then led her into the estate, Malcolm close at their heels.


End file.
